


Y Mab Darogan

by Phiso



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Don't Worry Gansey is totes a good, F/M, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Love across reincarnations, Love across time, Past Lives, True Love's Kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-29 17:58:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19025035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phiso/pseuds/Phiso
Summary: He’d had to die three times to find it, but the forest would always be what the Raven King wanted it to be.And what the Raven King wanted, more than anything, was to love his Blue one.





	Y Mab Darogan

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for and first published in the Bluesey zine, "Under All This". The art that accompanied this was drawn by bracari-iris, but alas, as I couldn't find a tumblr link to it, I wasn't sure of how to include it.

Owain Glyn Dŵr first saw her in a dream.

He was in a forest he did not recognize, and yet felt like home. The trees, tall and pale and smooth, whispered their greetings in words he did not understand; the ground beneath him cushioned his steps, lush and giving and silent. The air, unseasonably warm, embraced him as he walked, moonlight illuminating his way in soft silver.  

He did not know where he was going, and yet knew he would arrive. The forest would ensure it.

Time passed and stood still; he felt himself grow older than his seventeen years, and yet it was always night, and always warm. When he spared a glance at his hands they belonged to an older man, large and strong and callused, used to both quill and sword. As he studied his hands in the light, turning and flexing and bending, shadows danced upon his skin, the years melting away and sliding back, everything he was and could be all at once.

Leaves rustled with an unexpected wind, and his head jerked up in time to spot a girl - no, a woman around his age a few yards ahead. He stared, surprised and entranced by his company. Her hair was wild and dark and framed a wild and beautiful face. Her clothes were strange, old-fashioned and deep blue. She was studying her hands as well, her skin unblemished and soft and her palms bright red. There was a small crease between her brows as she regarded her hands, and Owain was suddenly overcome with the strange urge to gently thumb the crease away.

His heart skipped as her own chin lifted and her gaze met his own.

“What happened?” he asked her.

“A war,” she answered, uncertain. “I think I lost my raven.”

 

~*~

 

Gansey didn’t believe in coincidences. He couldn’t, being who he was, considering the reason he was breathing at all.

Light streamed in through the window as he laid in bed, the back of his head cradled in folded arms. An occasional squawk from Ronan’s room punctured the otherwise silent night, Monmouth Manufacturing done settling hours before. It made it easy for his mind to wander.

A voice whispered on the tape. A girl’s voice, he was sure of it, though he couldn’t explain why. He had answered her, even though he didn’t remember speaking. She had wanted to know his name. Why? The answer buzzed in the edges of his mind, and he shoved it aside, not wanting to look at it.

Instead his thoughts strayed back to the girl from Nino’s, from 300 Fox Way. Blue. The psychic energy amplifier with a sharp tongue that made him trip over his feet. How did she do that? And why did she seem so...familiar? Like he was meant to run into her. Maybe he was. What else could explain how neatly that all fell together?

Another squawk interrupted his thoughts. Chainsaw was going to enable his insomnia, he could tell, but the magic surrounding the bird made it hard for Gansey to be angry about it. A raven found - no, pulled from a dream. A raven, for them, the Aglionby raven boys, looking for their Raven King.

Gansey lifted his hand to look at it, moving his fingers in the moonlight, watching the tendons dance beneath his skin.

Glendower had been his age, once.

 

  
~*~  


 

The second time Owain Glyn Dŵr saw her was under the moon.

Twenty year old Prince Owain was meant to stay with his hunting party, but it was far too easy to outstrip them. Only Iolo kept up with him, and so the pair rode their horses through the forest, their eyes keeping a sharp lookout for wild boar tracks. It was quiet in the forest, the only sound their hooves and breathing and the faint song of birds.

A black shadow and a cawing laugh swiped over them suddenly, tearing a gash into their peace. Owain strung his bow in one smooth movement and aimed it up at the trees, heart quickening as his eyes scanned for the laughing raven, knowing what such a sound foretold. But Owain saw no bird; only the white moon winking at him through the leaves, pale against the blue sky. Something in his veins buzzed, and he could not tear his eyes away from the day moon above them.

Their horses squealed and Iolo cried out, and Owain whipped his bow back down just in time to see a group of wild boar charging them, shrieking, the sounder aiming to bring their Arawn, the King of Annwyn, two more souls. Owain loosened his bow swiftly, shooting one squarely in the eye, but that did not stop the boars’ attack, and the men were forced to turn and run, shooting arrows over their shoulders in an effort to reduce the sounder’s unnatural speed.

Iolo cursed and pulled at the reigns of his horse, skidding to a stop; Owain followed suit an instant later, having loosened yet another arrow moments before. Before them stood a young woman in blue with wild hair and wild eyes, her hands outturned and her palms red.

“What are you doing here?” Owain demanded, finding this waking dream much more frightening than the sounder of swine pressing behind them. “Who are you, to be in the forest alone? It is dangerous here! Come with us!” He urged his horse on, meaning to scoop her up onto his horse and get her to safety, but his horse would not move towards her.

The woman looked up at Owain, her eyes dark depths reflecting nothing and everything all at once. Her face was beautiful and yet terrible to look at, for it spoke of dreams one fought to forget.  “Speak, and they shall follow your command.”

“Damn it, leave her, she is simple and mad!” Iolo spurred his horse on, but his horse also refused, and Iolo looked back at the charging boars in dread.

She did not respond to that; instead, she split into three in the blink of an eye, three identical women with six identical red hands. A thrill went through Owain as he grew certain he was in the presence of a witch, but as soon as he blinked again, she was one again.

“Who are you?” Owain repeated, his heart pounding. “What have you done to our horses? Do you mean for us to die?”

“Speak,” the woman repeated, “and they shall follow your command.” Her gaze flicked to the wild boar gaining on them, dangerously close, and she said once more: “Speak.”

A wave of frustration and terror overcame Owain, and without thinking he wheeled about, throwing his arm out and filling his voice with firm purpose: “ _Stop_.”

The wild boars stopped in their tracks, snorting in place and sniffing at the ground, patiently waiting for their next order. Owain could feel Iolo gaping at him, but he could not bring himself to face him; instead, chest heaving with adrenaline, he lowered his arm slowly as he turned his gaze instead towards the woman, a thousand questions whirring in his mind.

She smiled serenely up at him, lifting her red palms towards him as if in prayer.

“A magician, a dreamer, a King,” she said, her words singing like a spell, her body splitting back into three for an instance before becoming one again. “Laugh, my raven, and Death will do your bidding. Speak, and no one shall deny you, oh, Y Mab Darogan, oh, Protector of the Land, oh, blessed Raven King.”

“If I am your raven, then who are you?” Owain asked, the words soft on his lips, his true question unspoken: _Do I belong to you?_

“Who am I?” The woman inclined her head, bowing, before giving him a knowing smile. “Your mirror.”

 

~*~

 

_Glendower was my age, once._

 

“I don’t think these fish are real.”

Gansey stared at his hand, tipping it back and forth, studying the grooves in the skin of his knuckles, the curve of his fingers’ shadows, the ley lines his veins drew under his skin. Something tugged at his heart like a bowstring, taut and prepared for release, waiting for his command.

He thought he heard music, but maybe he was just getting carried away. 

His gaze shifted back to the fish, watching the dark streaks in the water swirl beneath his shadow. He could feel Blue looking at him. He wanted Blue next to him. He wondered if, then knew, that there was no way he could ever command her to. That was part of the reason why he liked her so much.

Blue knew things he didn’t, things that to her felt like old family photos and to him felt like massive secrets the world was trying to keep from him. She knew about magic, and about reading the future, and about reading the past. She was the missing piece in his search for Glendower, the gatekeeper to the prophets. Maybe she knew what this tugging was in his heart.

He swallowed past a dry mouth and spoke. “At the reading, what was it that the one woman said?”

As she answered his question, Gansey remembered her role in Fox Way. Blue the battery. Gansey felt something warm his blood, and the tugging grew stronger, making him anxious to try, and unsure what it was he was supposed to be trying in the first place.

It had to do with this school of fish.

“What color were the fish when we arrived?”

Blue didn’t answer, but at last she joined him, crouching down by the water, studying the fish with him and sending a thrill through him he couldn’t explain.

He needed to talk. He needed words. That was all he had.

And so Gansey talked, babbling on about different kinds of trout, sure he was boring her, but also certain that there was a point to be found in all this. And then, like following a GPS route, he arrived at his destination. These trout were only here because he wanted them here. And now, he didn’t want them to be brown, but red.

“Brook trout are silver on the top and red on the bottom.”

“ _Okay._ ”

Blue didn’t believe him, but Gansey didn’t care. She didn’t have to believe him for her power to work, for her sheer closeness to make his body erupt in a tingling mass of adrenaline. He felt it shooting through his veins, powerful and wonderful and terrifying, and he knew, he _knew_ , she had something to do with this.

Gansey kept his hand very still, trying to focus all that buzzing and make it solid. “Tell me there were no red fish when we arrived.”

When Blue didn’t answer, Gansey looked at her, needing to know she hadn’t seen any red when they arrived. It was vital, absolutely vital, that he knew, so that he could be reassured that he wasn’t going crazy, that what was sparking under his skin was real.

Blue shook her head, her wild hair making a strange shadow on the surface of the water, and Gansey thought his heart might explode, so he focused all of that into his hand, silently willing with every inch of force he could manage for the fish under his hand to be Brook trout.

 _You, fish under the shadow of my hand, are Brook trout. You are silver on top and red on the bottom. You_ **_are._ **

Gansey ripped his hand away.

The fish were red.

“I don’t understand,” Blue said.

Gansey’s heart ached, having hoped she would have all the answers.

 

Not long after, Blue wept over the prophesied death of a King, and Gansey, standing entombed in a tree, saw Glendower.

 

~*~

 

Owain would remember the day of his wedding well, but not all of his memories were sharp for the right reasons. 

They married in a beautiful forest on the family’s estate, home to magnificent trees older than anyone could remember and the sweetest air anyone would ever taste. Owain and Margaret had approved of the location right away, but it wasn’t until his wedding day that Owain realized that the forest was much more familiar than he had bargained for.

 _This is the forest_ , he thought in awe, taking everything in. He had been here before, countless times, watching his life mirrored before him in all directions, slipping and swimming like silver fish. _This is the forest in my dreams._

Owain gave himself a moment to search, to look for the woman with wild hair and red palms, but she was nowhere to be seen. He felt an ache in his chest at the memory of her eyes, and he cast the thought aside, knowing it had no place here.

Margaret - no, Marred, in this land's tongue - had been resplendent, shining, her dark hair tumbling over her shoulders, her deep red dress glossing over her curves. She had been demure, but not without a spark in her eye; she had known Owain for years already, the daughter of the man who had fostered Owain as a young man, and they were not without their secrets and jokes and loaded looks. They had grown up together, in a way, and marrying her meant they could grow old together, too.

Owain forced himself to keep his gaze on her as she approached him, a task weighed down with considerable guilt as he acknowledged how difficult it was to stick to it. It was his wedding day, and he wanted to be enraptured by his wife; instead, the forest and its woman had him spellbound, whispering words on the wind he couldn’t quite make out.

That voice was familiar, and he knew precisely why.

_My raven._

Something in Owain’s heart tugged and yearned, and he did his best to stomp it down. _This is your wedding day,_ he berated himself fiercely, ignoring the flash of memory in his mind of her blue dress. _Leave past dreams in the past._

And then he felt something very softly land on the back of his hand, gentle as a kiss.

Owain’s gaze fell upon his wrist and he saw a lily petal balanced on his skin, fresh and impossibly blue.

Looking up, he saw more blue petals sprinkling over their party like rain, enchanting and seemingly from nowhere. They landed on shoulders, on knees, and in his wife’s hair, and when Owain looked into the trees to see if he could spot their source, a single petal landed softly on his lips.

_Avide audimus._

 

~*~

 

Gansey wanted, and he didn’t know what to do with it.

To be fair to himself, Gansey always wanted. He wanted adventure, he wanted meaning, he wanted brothers-in-arms and knowledge and to be _alive_. He searched for these things, fought for them, would throw money and time and sweat and blood and tears down to find them. He wanted Glendower partly because Glendower gave him all these things. Without Glendower, he would have nothing. He would be nothing.

But he knew how to live with the want for Glendower. This was a new need he didn’t know how to handle.

Gansey wanted the touch of blue lily petals on his hands, his cheeks, his mouth. Gansey wanted to hold Blue’s hand, to intertwine their fingers and legs, to hold each other so tight he would never have to worry about her being torn away or torn apart. Gansey wanted her heart beating next to his, and her breath tickling his neck, to always be near her signs of life, to always be reassured by her warmth.

Gansey wanted to kiss her, so, _so_ badly. Just thinking about it shot a thrill through him and sent his heart thumping hopefully in his chest. His emotions quivered over a precipice, waiting to pour into her like a waterfall, wanting to show her just how much there was.

But, even if people knew, even if he was allowed to link his fingers with hers and stroke her wonderfully ridiculous hair and feel her arm pressed against his leg and not have to worry about hurting anyone by it, there was still something stopping him, something big and terrible and no one’s fault.

Gansey wanted to love Blue with everything he had. He wanted to give her anything she asked for. He wanted to comfort her and cherish her and give her his thanks for helping him sleep. His time was running out to do so, and he was desperately afraid that if he didn’t do something soon, he’d never get the chance.

But Gansey knew what her kiss would mean for him. And Gansey did not want to die sooner than he needed to.

Oh, what to do with this want?

 

~*~

 

Owain Glendower knew she was a dream. But that did not keep him from loving her.

She appeared to him the third night as he walked through the forest, restless and unable to sleep. She sat upon the grass, leaning on a moss-covered boulder, her gaze soft as gently stroked the petals of a blue lily, her dress matching her flower and pooling around her. The moonlight cast a veiled shadow over her face, lifting as she turned to look at him.

As soon as he saw her, he wondered if he was dreaming again. He had sworn he had walked here himself, but then, how many dreams had started the same way?

“What are you doing here, my blue one?” Owain asked her, kneeling beside her, afraid to touch her lest he wake up. He rather liked this dream, now that he was in it, and did not wish to break its spell.

She smiled up at him, her brows dubious and her mouth curious. “Waiting for you, my King.” Her hand stroked the soft grass beside her, her gaze inviting. “Sit with me.”

Owain could feel her warmth as he sat beside her. She smelled of flowers. Unable to help himself, he leaned into her, his fingertips brushing across her red, red palm. She took his hand and intertwined their fingers.

“The last time I saw you, you said you were my mirror,” he murmured, bowing his head towards hers. “What did you mean?”

She closed her eyes and reaches towards him, pressing their foreheads together. “I’m sorry I took so long to get here. It’s difficult, appearing to you this way.”

“You’re here now.” He nuzzled his nose against hers, heart full. “Tell me,” he asked, as she brought her free hand up to stroke his cheek. “Is this a dream?”

“It is and it isn’t,” she replied softly, her thumb brushing over his bottom lip. “In this forest, here among us, the world is whatever you wish it to be, my King.”

Glendower hummed, turning on his side towards her, his free hand moving to rest on her knee. “You have me bewitched, my blue one. I want to live in this forest with you. How am I return to my world knowing you are here, waiting for me?”

“The forest will always appear for the Raven King, but if you wish, give me something to send back with you,” she said, ghosting her lips against his. “I wish it, myself.”

Glendower closed the distance between them, and the forest hummed.

Some time later, Glendower did indeed take something back with him: another mirror, reflecting his love and his power, the living memory of something he knew he would always want and could never keep.

He called her Gwenllian.

 

~*~

 

Gansey believed he had been seven years old the first time he had died, and seventeen the second.

He believed that the first time, he had been killed by a wasps’ nest, covered from head to toe in a painful fire that sucked the breath out of his lungs. It had been terror and shock and helplessness and regret, a life lost foolishly and learning too late how precious it had been. That first time, he had brought back to life by the ley line, with a voice whispering to him his survival, giving his gifted life purpose. Cabeswater needed him.

He believed that the second time, he had been killed by true love’s kiss, a dream he had willed into being despite knowing that he could not have it, not without losing something else. He had been electric with dread and excitement and certainty, having known it would come to this, and he had been willing, perfectly willing, to buckle before his Blue’s curse in order to save her and his brothers. That second time, he had been brought back to life not only by the ley line, but by Cabeswater itself, the forest bending and dying and reshaping itself into a form none of them had been in a very long time, not since Glendower had last ridden. It was hard to remember how she had done it, now that she was dead and could not remember for them.

These things were true, mostly, and Gansey lived on living them all, forever caught everywhere at once. But what he could not see was his life before it was his own, the life he had been searching for the whole time.

He’d had to die three times to find it, but the forest would always be what the Raven King wanted it to be.

And what the Raven King wanted, more than anything, was to love his Blue one.

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to be as historically accurate as possible, but there are some artistic liscenses, anyway~


End file.
